


Continental Drift

by Fie



Series: Armor and Arrogance [3]
Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 06:26:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/846343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fie/pseuds/Fie





	Continental Drift

Summer 2013

London

“Liv, what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be downstairs. You know, doing manager stuff.”

“I need your help. That bitch Sophie just got her third strike, and I’m pretty sure if I tell her she’s fired, there will be a rather large scene. Will you come down and tell her? Pretty please?” she asked with puppy eyes and a grin.

“Fine. But you owe me. I will accept payment in chocolate. Or spa gift certificates. Actually, make it both. And if this ends in tears, I’m taking a vacation.”

As they made their way out of the flat and down the stairs to the restaurant, Chloe was overwhelmed with fatigue. Business had really picked up, and she and Liv could barely keep up. They had been searching for someone to help them manage the place, but it seemed that every applicant was either a flake, or, even worse, a fan girl. Tom’s fans were obviously not above using her to get to him. Right now, all she wanted was to go back upstairs, take a bubble bath, and crawl back into bed.

“Fucking Sophie…,” she grumbled

 

New Orleans

It took Tom approximately an hour to decide that all the bad things he had heard about New Orleans were absolutely true. The sultry, steamy heat was even more oppressive than he’d anticipated. He very much wanted to avoid the areas most crowded with tourists, but knew that he needed to be quite careful not to wander too far from the beaten path. However, the same could be said about all the wonderful things, and he was enjoying discovering them for himself.

It was a city of contradictions. The quiet of the Garden District. The chaos of the Quarter. The mix of classes and accents was at once dizzying and delightful.

This particular night was a mix of sultry and soft, warm and smelling of jasmine, and he could only think of Chloe. 

 

London

“Well that was tedious,” Chloe sighed as she put her head down on her desk.

The process of firing Sophie without causing a scene had taken much longer than anticipated, and tears were definitely shed. None of them were Chloe’s, of course, but she still had to deal with them. Too tired to trudge upstairs just yet, she put her feet up and leaned back in the chair, fully prepared to take a quick nap in her office.

Monday you can fall apart  
Tuesday, Wednesday break my heart  
Thursday doesn’t even start  
It’s Friday I’m in love

She bolted upright, her heart racing and her feet falling off the desk.

“I know I changed that bloody ringtone, and my phone isn’t even down here,” she thought before realizing where that song was coming from. With a glare aimed at the speaker in the corner, she stood and strode off toward the kitchen.

Liv could only watch with eyes wide and mouth gaping as Chloe calmly picked up a tenderizing mallet and proceeded to destroy the restaurant’s stereo unit. Eventually, the crashes and curses subsided, and Chloe slumped to the floor, sobbing and bleeding. Liv rushed over to her, gathering her in her arms and holding her as she cried.

“Well, I see that we’ve reached the anger phase of the grieving process. Not a moment too soon, I must say.”

Chloe just smiled weakly through her tears.

 

New Orleans

“So Tom, is this your first time in New Orleans?” the radio host asked.

“Hmm. Yeah. I was supposed to come with…” He faltered, but recovered with a smile, “Yeah, I’m so glad I finally made it down here. We’re just doing some preliminary meetings before we properly start filming the movie, so I’ve had some free time to explore. It’s definitely an interesting place so far!”

“How'ya enjoyin' the heat?” the host asked with a laugh.

“Well, I must admit it’s a bit warmer than London. Let’s see, how did I hear it described?” After a moment of thought, he drawled in an exaggerated American Southern accent, “It’s hotter'n the hammered down hinges of Hell.”

The interview finally ended, and as Tom slipped alone into the waiting car, the happy façade slipped, and his eyes filled with tears as he stared out at the city he never intended to visit alone.


End file.
